


Give Me Something Good

by dettiot



Category: Arrow (TV 2012), Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternative Universe - No Island, Crossover, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-29
Updated: 2016-10-31
Packaged: 2018-08-27 17:47:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 13,397
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8410789
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dettiot/pseuds/dettiot
Summary: Halloween is a time for tricks and treats.  Oliver and Felicity get to experience one of each.





	1. Trick

**Author's Note:**

> _Trick or treat, smell my feet, give me something good to eat_. I’m turning the childhood rhyme on its head by giving you something good to read: two standalone fics set around Halloween. I hope you enjoy my responses to the prompts I received in leviosaphoenix’s Halloween challenge! Many thanks to acheaptrickandacheesyoneline and adiwriting for reading this over and offering feedback.
> 
>  
> 
> This fic is set in s5, with mild spoilers for what’s happened so far this season.

 

Trick: 7. “Come on, it’s just an urban legend…”

He wasn’t going to admit that Felicity was right about the need for a new team.  Not when it meant moving forward, acting like nothing had happened between them, pretending that everything was okay.  Oliver knew Felicity wasn’t okay--just like he wasn’t okay.  

Which, admittedly, was all the more reason to have backup out in the field.  Or at least, to not have wannabes getting in the way.  It would be a long time before he felt like Rene, Evelyn, Rory or Curtis had what it took, but they were getting training, they were starting to learn--

Well, Evelyn was learning.  Rory, too.  And Curtis was trying.  Rene, on the other hand . . . 

“Yo, there’s something we should check out.”  

“What, the crimes happening in the Glades not interesting enough?” Felicity asked, swirling around in her chair and looking at Rene.  “I must not be doing my job right.”  

Rene smirked at Felicity.  “No, you’re doing great, Blondie.  That mugger you pointed me to last night?  He gave me a real challenge.  Appreciated that.”  

“So much of a challenge that you needed help from me and Oliver,” Evelyn said, folding her arms over her chest.  She quirked an eyebrow.  “Maybe you should go back to the ice rink.  Put that hockey mask to some use.”  

“I’m doing better than you,” Rene countered. 

“Is everything a competition with you guys?” Curtis asked, throwing his hands in the air, while Rory just stood beside him, his hands in his pockets as he took in his fellow team members.

Oliver held up his hand.  “Let’s focus, everyone.  Evelyn, Curtis, Rory, keep practicing.  Rene, you shouldn’t be digging up leads.  Part of being a vigilante is keeping a low profile.  Not attracting attention.”  

“I didn’t do any digging--everyone knows about Starlight Hospital,” Rene argued.  “And some of my boys were talking about people going there and then disappearing.”  

“Starlight Hospital?” Felicity asked.

Oliver turned to Felicity.  “It’s a former mental health clinic.  Used to be very exclusive.  But about thirty years ago, the neighborhood around it changed and went downhill, so they closed Starlight.  Ever since, it’s been a local ghost story.”

“The kind of story big brothers like to tell their little sisters to scare them,” Thea added, coming out of the elevator.  “Ollie, you’ve got the City Council meeting.”  

“I’m telling you, something’s up,” Rene persisted.  

It was all Oliver could do not to rub a hand over his face.  The frustration of dealing with Rene was almost greater than Oliver’s desire to see him fulfill his potential.  

“I’ll do some searches and see what I find,” Felicity said, diffusing the situation.  “See you later, Oliver.”  

With a nod and a roll of his shoulders, Oliver followed Thea towards the elevator.  But he paused to look back at Rene.  “After you warm up, spar with Evelyn.  Work on your communication and reading each other’s body language.”  

Rene looked a bit mulish, but he nodded and turned towards the locker room.  Oliver glanced at Felicity, who didn’t look up from her computers, and then stepped onto the elevator.

“You okay?” Thea asked, resting a hand on his arm.  “You and Felicity--”

“I’m fine, Speedy,” Oliver said, cutting her off.  “Just up to here with Rene,” he added, holding his hand above his head.  

“He’s definitely pretty cocky,” Thea agreed.

There was something in her voice that made Oliver turn to examine her.  Something that sounded like she was attracted to that cockiness.  

Thea met his gaze and she laughed.  “Don’t worry, Ollie, I’ve moved past my bad boy phase.  Not that Roy was much of one.”  

“Well, good,” he said, looking up at the floor indicator, trying not to sound as relieved as he felt.  The last thing he wanted to think about was his sister dating his protegé . . . again.  

XXX

Placing each foot carefully, Oliver moved through the ruins of Starlight Hospital, taking in thirty years of decay.  Wondering what they would find here and whether this would just be a dead end.   Instead, he mentally reviewed what Felicity had told them once he returned to the lair after the City Council meeting.  

“There have been decades of police calls to the site of Starlight Hospital,” she had told everyone.  “Always picking up around Halloween, of course.  But in the last two weeks, there’s been reports of three people who have gone missing--and each was last seen in the vicinity of the Starlight.”  

Rene poked his finger at the screen.  “Him, Johnny Lobaton?  He’s the cousin of one of my boys.  I told you.”  

“Suit up--we’ll investigate,” Oliver said, straightening up.  “Perhaps these three people stumbled into something that got them into trouble.  The Starlight is a perfect location for drug dealers or a smuggling ring.”  

Now, the new team was moving through the building.  Only two floors, the Starlight was set in a pocket of the Glades that used to be pretty, with parks and trees and nice houses.  Now, though, the houses were dilapidated wrecks, the parks were unsafe for anyone, and the trees concealed illicit drug deals, sexual encounters, and worse.  

Rene, Rory and Curtis were on the first floor, while Oliver had Evelyn with him on the second.  He had figured since she was smaller and lighter, she would stand a better chance if the building wasn’t structurally sound and the floor gave way.  She had also advanced enough with the bow to be able to accurately fire an arrow to save herself.  

“Report,” Oliver asked into the comms.  “See anything?”

“A lot of animal poop,” Curtis replied.  

“So Wild Dog should be feeling nice and comfortable,” Evelyn snarked.  

The sniping between Evelyn and Rene was becoming a problem.  A problem to be solved as soon as this damn smelly exploration was over.  

“Artemis, stop antagonizing Wild Dog,” Oliver ordered.  “Keep looking.  But if we don’t find anything, we’ll leave it to the police to investigate further.”  

He waited for Rene to complain, but blissfully, he stayed quiet.  Oliver looked over to Evelyn and nodded.  “You see anything?”

The young woman shook her head.  “Nothing.”  

Nodding, Oliver gestured ahead.  “We’ll check the last hallway and then we’ll join up with the others.”  

Evelyn gave her own nod and they both moved to the corridor ahead of them.  Starlight was laid out like a capital letter E, with three short hallways opening off a long one.  The first hallway had been staff offices and the second one seemed to be some kind of patient day room.  Oliver guessed the last one would hold patient rooms--a suspicion confirmed when they entered the corridor and found it filled with several doors, each with a small square glass window and a slot underneath.  

“Check each door on your side.  If any are unlocked, go in and take a look--carefully,” Oliver instructed Evelyn.  He moved forward and checked the first door on his side of the hall.  

Each one was locked, until he reached the last one.  Glancing back, he saw Evelyn was paused at a door three down from his.  Turning back to his door, Oliver pushed it open slowly and stepped inside.  

A chill went down his back as he crossed the threshold, making him frown.  Looking around, he took in the room, illuminated thanks to the light of the full moon pouring in through the wire mesh-covered window.  It revealed an all-white room, with a narrow cot bolted against one wall and a combination toilet and sink in the far corner.  It felt . . . 

Oliver shook his head.  Just because this felt strange, he couldn’t let himself get distracted--

There was what sounded like a footstep behind him, making Oliver whirl around, his bow lifting and an arrow nocked into place automatically.  There was no one there, making Oliver feel foolish.  Now he was hearing things.  

He turned back to give the room one last look and froze.

“My beautiful boy.”  

It . . . it couldn’t be.  

Moira Queen stepped forward, looking just like she had on the day she died.  On the day she had been murdered by Slade Wilson.  The same blue dress and purple coat, the same bloodied forehead, the same rain-dampened hair.  

“I’ve been waiting for you, Oliver,” his mother said, smiling at him.  She came towards him, closer and closer, until the point of his arrow was inside her chest.  

“You have so many secrets,” she continued, her smile replaced with a look of cold, icy hatred.  “Secrets can kill, Oliver.”  

Her hand lashed out, pressing against his chest, sending the worst pain he had ever experienced coursing through his body.  His knees weakened and bent, a groan escaping his lips, as he tried to not pass out.  

Suddenly, a scream split the air--a heart-rending sound of anguish.  Oliver met Moira’s eyes, just before the pain, and the apparition of his mother, vanished.  

Oliver dropped to his knees, gasping as he tried to breathe.  He slapped at his communicator.  “Ar-Artemis?”  

There was no response.  “Wild Dog, Terrific, Ragman, get up here now!” Oliver barked in a raspy voice as he pushed himself up and moved, as quickly as he could, to find Evelyn.

XXX

The mood in the lair was somber.  Evelyn sat in a chair, wrapped in a blanket with her head hanging low.  When Oliver had found her, she had said only two words: “Mom.  Dad.”  Then she had withdrawn into her own head, staying silent.  

Leaving it to Oliver to detail what had happened.  

With his arms wrapped around himself, Oliver spoke quietly, trying to collect himself.  “I stepped into a room and . . . I saw my mom.”  

Curtis and Rene exchanged glances, looking confused.  Rory didn’t lift his eyes from the floor.  But Felicity immediately stood up, gripping the back of her chair.  “Your mom?”

Oliver nodded.  “She looked exactly like she did the last time I saw her.  After Slade ran our limo off the road.”  

Felicity’s eyes were wide behind her glasses.  “Did she . . . did she say anything?”  

“She called me ‘my beautiful boy’,” Oliver said, feeling his cheeks flush a little, even though he had wished he could hear his mother call him that again.  But for real, not when . . . not when it was her ghost.  

It must have been a ghost.  Because Moira Queen was dead.  He knew it, because he had seen it happen.  In reality, and then over and over in his nightmares.

“Then she said she had been waiting for me,” he continued quickly.  “She stepped forward, until she was so close to me, the arrow I had nocked was inside her.  And then--”  

The same kind of chill as before went over him, making him close his eyes and try to push away the memories.  He wished he had grabbed a blanket for himself.  He could recognize the symptoms of shock--he needed to take better care of himself, because there was no one else to do it . . . 

A sudden flaring of warmth, concentrated on his arm, made Oliver snap out of his spiral.  Opening his eyes, he saw Felicity had closed the distance between them and her hand was resting on his bicep.

“What happened next?” she asked gently, her eyes meeting his.  They were filled with sympathy and support, in a way he hadn’t seen in months.  

It made him realize how much he had missed this--this feeling of support blended with comfort.  Of course Felicity had his back when he was in the field as the Green Arrow and had given him the help he needed with the team.  Yet everything between them had been kept strictly professional.  At least, he had done his best to stay professional.  After all, Felicity had been the one to break up with him, Felicity had a boyfriend now, Felicity was moving on and moving forward.  Just like she had kept telling him to do.   Yet here she was, showing her concern for him.  For Oliver, not the Green Arrow.    

Taking a deep breath, Oliver nodded a little.  “She . . . she said I have so many secrets.  And that secrets can kill.  Then she--she did something to me, something that hurt more than anything I’ve ever felt.”  He paused, holding Felicity’s gaze as he tried to impress upon her just what he was saying.  “Anything.”  

“We heard you say something over comms,” Rory said quietly.  “A moan or something.  We were already on the way when Evelyn screamed.”  

“I saw my parents.”  

The whole team turned at the sound of Evelyn’s voice.  Oliver stepped away from Felicity, walking over to Evelyn.  

She looked up at Oliver.  “They . . . they told me how much they missed me, and then--then they hugged me and it . . . it  _ hurt _ .”

The sadness and confusion and shock in Evelyn’s voice made her sound very young and very scared.  Oliver lightly held her shoulders.  “It’s okay, Evelyn,” he told her softly.  “It wasn’t really them.  They would never hurt you.”  

And he didn’t know if he was telling Evelyn or telling himself.  Yet it seemed like it was something they both needed to hear.  

Evelyn looked up at him, a tear falling down her cheek, but the lost look in her eyes was fading, replaced by her normal determination.  “You’re right,” she said, pulling her hand out of her blanket to wipe at her face.  “Okay.  So . . . so ghosts are real?”

“Ghosts cannot be real,” Curtis argued.  “There’s been so much scientific research and yet there’s nothing conclusive . . . come on, they’re just an urban legend.”  

“I was wrapped in rags that protected me from a nuclear explosion,” Rory countered, his voice calm and even.  “I think there’s a lot of things that science can’t explain.

“Putting aside that,” Felicity said, her voice so brittle that Oliver looked over at her, wondering at how stiffly she was holding herself, “I would have agreed with Curtis in the past.  But then there was super soldiers and ancient assassin orders and magic.  Maybe Hamlet wasn’t just trying to sound clever.”  

“Huh?” Rene asked.

Oliver straightened up, leaving one hand on Evelyn’s shoulder.  “‘There are more things in heaven and earth, Horatio / than are dreamt of in your philosophy’.”  

Deep down, he felt a spark of pleasure at seeing Felicity’s reaction to his quoting Hamlet.  Because her eyes widened slightly and her body relaxed a little as she dropped down into her chair.  “I thought you didn’t study Shakespeare at any of the four colleges you went to,” she asked.  

“I told you--I know stuff,” Oliver said, rubbing a hand over his face.  “Although . . . I don’t know anything about this.  Maybe Constantine is out of hell and could help out.”  

“If my granny was here, she’d know everything there is to know,” Rene offered.  “She believed in all kinds of spirits.”  

Oliver made a small noise of acknowledgement, trying to work out the next step.  Then he noticed how Felicity was fidgeting, rubbing her hands against the arms of her chair.  

“I . . . I might know someone.”  Once the words were out, Felicity adjusted her glasses self-consciously.  “He’s a friend of a friend, the brother-in-law of someone I met at computer camp . . . Sam, he--he’s contacted me a few times over the years, to help him get information.  I actually taught him how to access traffic cameras.  He--he knows about this stuff.”  

“Hey,” Oliver said, holding his hand up.  “Felicity, what’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” she said quickly.  “I’ll email Sam and see if he can swing by.  I’ll finally get to meet his brother, too--Sam talks about him a lot.”  

Without another word, Felicity turned to her computers, her fingers flying across the keyboard and making the keys click loudly as she typed.  

For a long moment, Oliver looked at Felicity’s back, taking in the line of her shoulders, the tension in her back, and he wondered what was going on with her.  There was a time he felt like he knew everything about Felicity Megan Smoak.  A time that seemed a long time ago.  Now . . . now he didn’t really know this Felicity, and while he was trying to follow her lead when it came to any non-team-related interactions, it seemed like she kept changing direction.

Maybe--maybe it was time to stop following her lead.  Maybe it was time they worked together to figure out where they wanted to go.  

“It’s late,” Oliver said finally.  “Get home safely, everyone.”  He turned to Evelyn, speaking to her softly and asking if she was all right.  She reassured him and got up to leave--following Felicity to the elevator.

Oliver frowned then sighed.  It was probably for the best not to talk to Felicity right now . . . but he couldn’t help feeling like he had missed an opportunity.  

XXX

Sam Winchester was a large, large man.  Not in the sense of being fat.  No, he was just . . . tall.  Really tall.  He was about five inches taller than Oliver, with wide shoulders and lanky limbs.  Even in the lair with its high ceilings and open spaces, it felt like Sam took up all the room.  

His brother Dean was about Oliver’s height and build, yet that didn’t mean he was less intimidating than Sam.  In fact, Oliver thought Dean looked like he could give Oliver a run for his money, even with being several years older.  

Beyond their physical appearances, both Winchesters had an air about them.  A sense that they knew what they were doing.  They weren’t going to coddle anyone, but their competence was evident.   

Dean was competent, at least.  It was hard to see it in Sam, with how he seemed like a big puppy around Felicity.

“Felicity Smoak?  You’re the skinny little brunette genius my brother-in-law keeps raving about?”  Sam advanced towards Felicity, smiling as he leaned down to hug her.  “It’s great to finally meet you.”  

“Brother-in-law?” Oliver had asked, to distract himself from how long Sam and Felicity were hugging.  

“Oh, it’s a long story,” Sam said with a wave of the hand.  

Felicity shrugged when Oliver looked at her.  “My friend Chuck--the one I went to computer camp with--his wife is practically Sam and Dean’s sister.  Thus, Chuck is Sam’s brother-in-law.”  She smiled brightly at Sam.  “It’s great to meet you, too.  And you, Dean.”  

“Thanks,” Dean replied dryly.  “So you’ve got a ghost problem?”  

“Yes, I think,” Oliver admitted.  “Myself and another member of the team had an experience when exploring an old mental hospital.”

“Abandoned insane asylum.  Gotta love the classics,” Dean said with a smirk.  

Sam shot his brother a look before turning to Oliver.  “What can you tell me about it?”  

Giving a short rundown of what happened, Oliver watched the faces of the brothers as he talked.  While Sam listened attentively, nodding and gesturing, Dean was more focused on checking his gun.  

“Is there a history of violent incidents at the hospital?  Riots, patient deaths under mysterious circumstances, doctors losing their license to practice, anything?” Sam asked.  

Oliver shook his head.  “I don’t know.  Felicity?”

“On it,” she chirped, heading over to her computers.  

Dean watched her walk away, then turned back to join the conversation.  “Did you smell sulfur, feel any cold spots?”  

“No . . . although when I walked into the room where I--where I saw my mother,” Oliver replied, stumbling a bit over his words, “it felt . . . I don’t know.  I can’t describe it.  It just didn’t feel right.”  

“We should check it out tonight,” Dean told Sam.  He looked at Oliver and smiled tightly.  “We’ve got this.”  

“No,” Oliver protested.  “This is my city.  I’ll go with you.”  

The elder Winchester looked like he was ready to argue, but before he could say anything, Felicity’s voice floated towards them.  “Oliver?”

Stepping onto the platform, Oliver crossed over towards her, followed by Sam and Dean.  “You found something?”  

She nodded slowly, then turned.  “Um, sorry, Sam and Dean, but could you give us a moment?”  

The two brothers exchanged looks.  “Sure, Felicity,” Sam said, before he pulled Dean over towards the conference table, leaving Oliver and Felicity alone.  

“Felicity?” he asked, looking at her in confusion.  

He watched as she took a deep breath.  “Remember when I told you Malcolm was Thea’s father and your mom had been keeping it a secret from you?  I feel like I keep telling you things about your mother that could change how you feel about her.”  

“Hey,” Oliver said, dropping into the chair beside Felicity’s.  He reached out and paused, hesitating, before he lightly rested his hand on top of hers.  “It’s okay.  Really, Felicity.  I . . . I’ve made my peace about who my mother was.”  

Slowly, she made eye contact with him.  “Even if it means finding out she was a patient at Starlight?”

“What?” Oliver asked, leaning back in his chair and feeling dumbstruck.

Turning back to her computers, Felicity hit a few keystrokes.  “Moira Dearden, admitted March 7, 1977,” she read from the screen.  “Discharged September 17, 1977 to the care of her previous therapist and her family.  This comes from notes from a psychiatrist she saw later on.”

Oliver leaned closer to the screens.  “She was suffering from depression?” he read.  

“That was the diagnosis,” Felicity said, watching him.  

He gazed at the screen, lost in thought.  “Thea said that after the Gambit went down, Mom spent months in her bedroom.  And when Walter left her . . . she was definitely sad.”  

But it was more than sadness, he realized.  His mother was clinically depressed, yet she had never shared that with her children.    

“Your mom was eighteen?” Felicity asked softly.  

“Nineteen, actually,” Oliver answered slowly.  “She--the Deardens were wealthy in their own right.  Starlight is exactly the kind of place they would have sent my mom.  But I don’t know why . . . she never talked to me about it.”  

When he lifted his eyes to Felicity’s face, he could see how she was pressing her lips together, how she wasn’t quite making eye contact with him.  Which didn’t surprise him, since Felicity had admitted she had very ambivalent feelings about his mother.  Even more ambivalent than the ones Oliver had towards Moira Dearden Queen.

“I’m sorry,” Felicity said softly.  

“Thank you,” Oliver replied, pushing back from the computers a little, enough so he could catch Sam’s eye and gesture for the two brothers to join them.  “So it appears my mother was a patient at Starlight Hospital.”  

Dean’s eyebrows lifted in surprise, while Sam asked, “Someone else saw her parents--Felicity, did you find anything about them?”  

Felicity shook her head.  “No.  The Starlight was abandoned before Evelyn’s parents were adults, so I’m not sure what connection there might be.”  

“It could be the spirits are playing on your emotions.  Taking the appearance of someone who’s died, so it might just be a coincidence,” Sam commented.  “We’ll know more after we take a look.”  

“The girl who saw her parents, she should come, too,” Dean suggested.  

“No--I want to spare her that.  She lost her parents barely a year ago,” Oliver replied.  “Let me change and we can go.”  

As Oliver walked towards the case with his suit, he heard Dean say, “Change?”

XXX

As they approached the Starlight, Oliver gripped the handlebars of his Ducati, feeling apprehensive.  The thought of encountering the ghost of his mother--although Dean and Sam had said it wasn’t a ghost, but a spirit that might or might not actually be his mother--put him on edge.  But if these spirits were leading to deaths, it had to be investigated.  Not just by the Winchester brothers, either.  

He pulled his bike into the overgrown, rutted driveway for the hospital.  He heard the 1967 Impala the Winchesters drove--a car that looked like it had just rolled off the factory line--pull in behind him.  Given the condition of the driveway, he was able to park his bike and dismount before the Winchesters reached him.  

“That costume is crazy,” Dean said, throwing open the car door.  It squeaked as he slammed it closed.  “And a bow and arrow, seriously?”

“It worked for Robin Hood,” Sam pointed out.  “And Katniss.”  

Dean snorted and then looked at Oliver.  “Where’d you see the spirit?”  

Oliver gestured towards the north wing.  “The patient rooms on the second floor, in that wing.”  

“Lead on, Legolas,” Dean said, his Colt 1911 pistol already in his hand.  

“Bullets work on ghosts--on spirits?” Oliver asked, quirking an eyebrow.  

“When they’re made from consecrated iron, sure,” Dean said.  “Your arrows won’t do much good, unless you can light ‘em on fire.”  

Sam held his hand out.  “Can I see?”  

With a shrug, Oliver handed his bow over.  “I’ve got some explosive-tipped arrows.  Close enough?”  

“Yeah, that’ll do,” Dean said as Sam ran his eyes over Oliver’s bow, then lifted it up.  “Aww, Sammy, I didn’t know you wanted to be the next Merida.”  

“Shut up,” Sam said, no heat in his voice.  “You don’t see the appeal of the bow?”

Dean looked like he was pondering that, then he shrugged.  “Rambo made it look cool, I’ll give you that.”  

With a roll of his eyes, Sam handed the bow back to Oliver.  “Let’s go.”  

Taking point, Oliver lead the brothers into the hospital, walking slowly towards the staircase to the second floor.  “Felicity?” he said softly into the communicator.  

“I’m here.  What’s up?”  

“Just . . . just wanted to hear your voice,” Oliver admitted.  In what had become the new normal for them since their breakup, he wouldn’t have let himself reveal something like that.  Wouldn’t have shown how he needed her.  Yet if he was going to change how things were between them . . . it meant letting himself be vulnerable.  Taking a risk and reaching out to her and seeing how she would respond.    

There was a long silence, then Felicity spoke softly.  “Don’t worry.  Sam and Dean know what they’re doing.  And I’m here,” she repeated.  

“Good,” he replied.  Then, making himself focus, he told her, “We’re going to the second floor.”  

As they climbed the stairs, Oliver sensed the eyes of both Winchesters on him.  He glanced back at them, watching as Dean moved past him to take the lead.  “What?” Oliver asked.  

“What’s the story with you and the blonde?” Dean asked, throwing a look over his shoulder.  

“Do you really have to ask?” Sam said before Oliver could answer.  “It’s pretty obvious.”  

“Hey, she’s your friend, not mine,” Dean countered.  

Sam looked at Oliver, his face sympathetic.  Oliver let out a sigh before looking at Dean.  “We used to be engaged.”

“Ouch,” Dean said.  “And you still work together?  That’s rough, man.”  

Letting out a slightly-bitter laugh, Oliver headed towards the north wing.  “You have no idea.”  

The closer they got to the north wing, the more nervous Oliver became.  He tried to breathe slowly and deeply in order to stay calm, but it was only partly successful.  

“Okay there?” Sam asked Oliver as he rummaged in a duffel bag, pulling out a small handheld device and passing it to Dean.  “I know this isn’t easy . . .”

“I’m fine,” Oliver said, eyeing Sam.  He didn’t know this guy, and he was Felicity’s friend.  Plus, they were in the middle of a supposedly-haunted mental hospital.  If Sam was trying to take his mind off where they were, he had picked the wrong subject. 

A beeping came from the device in Dean’s hand as they approached the hallway with the patient rooms.  “Definitely spirits present,” he reported.  “EMF’s strong.”  

At Oliver’s confused look, Sam explained, “Electromagnetic frequency.  The more there is, the stronger the spirits are in a place.”     

“You saw your mom in one of these rooms?” Dean asked.  

Oliver pointed.  “Last door on the left.”  

Nodding, Dean pocketed the EMF meter and began easing down the hall, his gun and a flashlight held in the standard crossed-wrist position.  

Sam pulled out his own gun, falling into step with Dean with Oliver bringing up the rear.  He gripped his bow as they approached the room.  What if he saw his mother again?  Or his father?  Shado, Tommy, Laurel . . . or any of the dozens of people who were dead because of him?  

“You feel that, Sam?” Dean asked his brother as they approached the room.

“Uh-huh,” Sam said.  They exchanged a look that was heavy with silent communication, and then the three of them stepped into the room.  

It was crowded in the small room, but Oliver didn’t notice that.  What he did notice was the chill that went over him when he crossed the threshold.  He breathed out, a cloud of vapor forming in the cold air.  

The squeak of metal, not unlike the sound the Impala’s doors had made, sent all three of them whirling around.  In the open doorway, lit up by the beam of Dean’s flashlight, was Moira.  

No--it wasn’t really his mother.  It was just a spirit, taking her form.  

“More secrets,” Moira said, her hand resting on the metal door.  “Thank you for bringing them to me, Oliver.  Such a good son.”  

Faster than any human could have done so, Moira slammed the door shut.  Even as all three of them rushed the door, Oliver could hear the lock engaging.  

They were trapped.  

“Son of a bitch!” Dean cursed, giving the door one last kick.  

Sam had given up before Dean had, in favor of pulling out his phone.  He waited, then sighed.  “No cell service.”  

Oliver tapped on the button for his communicator.  “Felicity?”  

“Still here.  What happened?” Felicity asked.  

Whatever the spirits had done, they weren’t able to break the communication link between himself and Felicity.  Probably because Felicity was so amazing at what she did.  

“We got locked in a patient room.  Can you pull up schematics to see where the wiring is?  I don’t want to hit anything electrical with an explosive arrow, even if the power is off,” Oliver told her.  “Also, no matter how you push me away, I’m never going to leave you.”  

There was an intake of breath from Felicity, and Dean and Sam exchanged looks before looking at Oliver.  He swallowed, gripping his bow a bit tighter.  “I . . . I don’t know why I said that.”  

“A girl made me wear her panties once.”  Dean’s eyes went wide, then he slapped his hand over his mouth.  

“Wait--” Sam said, stepping forward.  “Oliver--your mom--she said something about secrets kill when you first saw her, right?”  

Nodding, Oliver shifted on his feet.  “She did.  She would know--she’s dead because of secrets I kept.”  

“And I keep thinking Lucifer isn’t so wrong,” Sam said, before shaking his head.  “Never mind.  Ask Felicity to search for anything about Russian spirits that feed off secrets.”  

Oliver relayed the request, then paused.  “Russian?”  

“The spirit spoke Russian--you didn’t notice?” Dean said, before covering his mouth with his hand again.  

Shaking his head, Oliver turned away to listen to Felicity.  

“Tell Sam that there are tales from the Soviet era, of a creature called--called  _ sekret lyu-duy-ed _ ?”  Felicity stumbled over the Russian words, trying to sound them out.

“ _ Sekret lyudoyed _ ,” Oliver corrected.  “Secret eater.”

“Yeah, that,” Felicity said, sounding frantic.  “It traps victims and makes them spill their guts, as a way to drain their life energy.  You’ve gotta get outta there, Oliver, or she’ll bleed you dry!”  

Oliver agreed with Felicity; there was nothing he wanted more than to get out of this room, to get out of this building.  But . . . “Not until we’ve dealt with this spirit,” he told Felicity.

Turning to Sam and Dean, he spoke quickly.  “The spirit is making us talk in order to kill us.”  

“Anything about how to gank this mother?  No offense,” Dean said, glancing at Oliver.  

“Felicity, do you see anything about how to kill it?” Oliver asked, pressing his lips together as another secret tried to get out.  But he failed.  “Every time you told me to move on, I wanted to say I love you.”  

A quiet, choked laugh came through the comms.  “Of course you did,” Felicity said, her voice thick and breathless.  “You--you big dumb pine tree.”  

“What?” he said, frowning.  Wondering if he had heard her wrong.  Wondering just what her little laugh had meant, and why it sounded like she was on the verge of tears.

“Never mind,” Felicity replied quickly.  “It--it looks like fire is the best option.  Since I doubt you have a piece of Baltic amber on you, to put in the spirit’s mouth.”  

“Understood,” Oliver said, pushing aside his thoughts about Felicity for the moment.  He looked at Sam and Dean.  “Felicity says fire.”  

Sam nodded, a dark expression on his face.  “It always is.”  He paused and looked at Dean.  “I’m sorry for not burning your body after you died the first time.”  

Oliver did a double-take, but Dean accepted Sam’s words with equanimity.  He turned to Oliver.  “Blow the door and get us the hell outta here.  We’ll cover you--iron and salt rounds will hurt the motherfucker, but they won’t kill the spirit.  That’ll be up to you.”  

“Right,” Oliver said, drawing one of the two explosive arrows in his quiver.  He had faced worse odds than this--he just hoped he could hold back most of his secrets.

XXX

Slowly, Oliver walked down the stairs, grimacing.  When the spirit had unleashed its energy in its death throes, that energy had had manifested in black goo, covering Oliver and the two Winchester brothers.  It didn’t smell, but it was sticky as hell.  

“Damn it, I hate ectoplasm,” Dean had said before spitting to the side.  

“Yeah,” Sam had said, wiping some of the gunk off his face.  “We’re gonna go to our hotel, wash up.  Ask Felicity if she wants to do dinner--she can give me a call.”  

“Okay,” Oliver had agreed, and they had gone their separate ways, Oliver steering his bike towards the lair.  

Felicity rose from her chair and stepped towards him.  “What happened?!?”  Her hands lightly touched his shoulders.  

“Careful,” Oliver said, pushing her hands away.  “It’s ectoplasm.  The spirit dumped it all over us when it exploded.”  

“So you killed it?” Felicity asked, staying close to him.  

He tilted his head to the side, watching her closely as he spoke.  “Yeah . . . apparently the spirit was assuming the forms of family members, for people who had secrets.  All part of drawing in the secret-keepers so the  _ sekret lyudoyed _ can take their secrets.”

It hadn’t escaped Oliver’s notice that the spirit had only appeared to himself and Evelyn.  At some point, he would have to talk to her about that, and find out if there was any way he could help her.  Starting by encouraging her to talk about her secrets.  

Which might seem hypocritical, since he held so much back.  He knew Felicity would certainly think so.  Yet . . . yet he didn’t want to be like that.  Not anymore, and not with Felicity.  

Perhaps--perhaps it would help if he started sharing with her.  Getting some of this stuff out of his head, out in the open.  After all, what was the worse that could happen?  She couldn’t break up with him again.  And maybe it would help Felicity see that opening up was a good thing--maybe if he showed her some of his secrets, she would tell him some of hers.  

It wasn’t a tit for tat situation.  He didn’t want Felicity to unburden herself just because he had done so.  But the secrets she was keeping, the things she wasn’t talking about, they seemed to be hurting her.  The last thing Oliver wanted was for Felicity to be in pain.  

The goal was to help Felicity.  If he helped himself at the same time . . . well, that would be okay, wouldn’t it?  

“Where are Sam and Dean?”

Felicity’s question snapped him out of his thoughts.  Oliver gave a shake of his head, then grimaced as small drops of ectoplasm flew through the air, making Felicity step back. 

“They went back to their hotel to clean up,” Oliver said.  “Sam said that if you wanted to get dinner with him, you could give him a call.”  

“Oh.  Okay,” Felicity said softly.  She looked at him for a long moment, then pushed up her glasses and turned away.  “Do you want to come, too?”

“I wish I could,” Oliver told her, gazing at her back.  “I have some work to get caught up on.  Besides, you and Sam must want to catch up.”  

Her ponytail bobbed slightly as she nodded her head.  “Yeah . . . yeah.”  She rolled her shoulders and looked back towards him.  “I’ll tell them thanks from you for the help?”  

“Yeah, please.  Um, Felicity?” 

“Yeah?” she asked distractedly, tapping away on her phone.  

“Are you free tomorrow night?”  

She went very still, then whirled around quickly.  “What?”

Oliver held her gaze, feeling the internal struggle.  The desire to keep treading water, to keep following her lead versus his need to get out of this limbo, to actually talk about what had happened tonight.  And what had happened between them before tonight.

“I thought you might have questions about what I said earlier.  And--and there’s all the other things I don’t talk about, the things you’ve probably been wondering about.  It’s too much for one dinner, but--but if you weren’t busy, we . . . we could start?”  

It felt like an eternity, waiting for Felicity’s response.  Watching the flickers of emotion in her eyes, seeing how tightly she gripped her phone in her hands.  

And then, in a soft, shy voice, so unlike Felicity, she said, “Yes.”  

End.


	2. Treat

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And for something very different . . . for my treat, enjoy a no-island AU, set in the fall of 2010.

 

Treat: 3. I came to the wrong Halloween party.

Turning her head back and forth, Felicity couldn’t help smiling a little at how her hair looked.  For tonight she had changed her dye job to more of an ashy blonde, and she liked the change.  As a bonus, it really worked for her costume.  

She tightened the band around one of her braids, then took a step back to check out the full effect.  

Due to Starling City’s chilly temperatures, she had decided on a costume that would protect her on this late October night.  The black motorcycle boots were comfortable, the black tights kept her legs warm under her denim skirt, and then there was the denim jacket to keep her fully covered.   The magenta fingerless mitts and long multicolored scarf added some color--something that was still new for her.  The messy braids was the final quirky touch.  

Really, she was a perfect Rose Tyler  _ and  _ her costume wasn’t going to lead to her getting pneumonia.  Win-win!  

With a small smile, Felicity adjusted a few details, then stepped out of the bathroom and checked the time on her phone.  Her cab should be here any minute, so she grabbed her purse and stepped out onto the porch of the townhouse she had been renting since her arrival in Starling City.  

A job had brought her to the West Coast, letting her escape Boston after four years at MIT.  It had been nearly six months that she had been working for Queen Consolidated, and her job was good.  Well, it was okay.  Well, it was not bad.  

Blowing out a breath, Felicity admitted to herself that her job pretty much sucked.  Not because the pay was bad or the conditions were unhealthy.  No, her job sucked because she was bored.  She was a junior IT technician when she had a master’s degree and a genius-level IQ.  Most jobs would be boring, but working at something so low-level . . . it was all she could do to keep her sanity.  

Yet every time she thought about applying for a new job, looking for a true challenge . . . she remembered what happened when she challenged herself.  It led to danger and destruction and death.  

Felicity felt the tears threaten and she sniffed quickly, carefully rubbing a finger under each of her eyes so as to not smear the heavy mascara her costume required.  

It wouldn’t be so bad, her job being so full of suck, if her personal life was even a little bit interesting.  Yet almost every night, Felicity came home to her townhouse, ordered some dinner, and curled up in front of the TV.  Some nights she read while watching old episodes of Doctor Who, but most of the time, she was online, reading the various hacker message boards but never posting and never, ever hacking.  

Hacking was part of her old life.  She needed to start a new one.  Which was easier said than done.  She hadn’t really made any friends here in Starling City--and that was why Felicity was so excited about tonight.  

There were a few other companies in Starling City that either focused on technology or had sizable IT departments.  Every year, they got together and threw a nerdy Halloween party.  Felicity had been invited, and tonight she was determined she was going to have a good time.  She was going to have a good time, damn it, and meet people, and maybe even find someone who would be fun to hang out with.  As a friend or a boyfriend--she would take either at this point.

A black car pulled up in front of her townhouse and beeped its horn.  Felicity hopped off her porch and went up to the car.  

“Felicity?” the driver asked in a bored voice.  

“That’s me,” she said, sliding into the backseat.  “We’re going to 7142 Graymalkin Lane.”  

The driver looked at her in the rearview mirror, then turned around in his seat to look her up and down.  But then he shrugged and turned back around, pulling the car away from the curb.  

Felicity frowned at the strange behavior, but brushed it aside in order to lean back against the seat and take a few deep breaths.  Then she pulled out her phone and began playing the mobile game she was addicted to.  

It was a mindless and silly game, but it let her relax by keeping her focus so deeply on the game, a bomb could go off beside her and she wouldn’t notice.  Or, in this case, be driven completely out of town.  

When she had used up her last life, Felicity looked up and was shocked to discover that she wasn’t anywhere she recognized.  It didn’t even look like she was in Starling City anymore!

Opening the maps application on her phone, Felicity waited impatiently for the GPS to locate where she was.  When the pin appeared, her fears were confirmed: she wasn’t in Starling City anymore.  7142 Graymalkin Lane was a good five miles from the city limits.  This must have been some mistake.  They were nearly there--she could just tell the cabbie to turn around in the driveway and then take her home.  

Felicity’s eyes widened when the driver pulled the car through a set of open gates in what looked to be a ten-foot-high fence.  The driveway seemed to go on forever, and soon she could see lights through the trees and hear loud, thumping music.  

And then they were stopping in front of the biggest, hugest house Felicity had ever seen--the source of the lights and music--and there were dozens of people dancing and drinking inside the house, visible through the windows and the open door.  

People who were dressed in all kinds of costumes.  Just like the party she was going to, but this--this was definitely  _ not  _ the party she was supposed to be attending.

Somehow, she had stumbled upon another Halloween party, being thrown in what must be the home of one of Starling City’s elites.  A party she didn’t belong at.  

She was opening her mouth to tell the cabbie there must have been a mistake and to ask him to take her home, but then . . . an idea came to her.  

Why couldn’t she go to this party?  

If she went to the nerdy party, she would be surrounded by her kind of people: nerds and geeks and fans.  It was the same type of crowd she had gravitated towards since her first days at MIT.  She knew exactly what to expect from that kind of party: arguments over who was the best Doctor (they were all great but Nine was her first Doctor), discussion about which Green Lantern was the best (John Stewart, hands down) and what were the chances that George R.R. Martin would live long enough to finish  _ A Song of Fire and Ice _ (Felicity refused to consider the question for fear of jinxing poor George’s life).  

Most nights, that would be the kind of party she wanted to attend.  But tonight . . . tonight it was Halloween.  And like they said in that episode of Buffy, Halloween was Come As You Aren’t night.  Which meant . . . she should take advantage of this chance to go to the kind of party she would never, ever get invited to.  This rich person party.  Because why not?

And fortunately, even if she turned into her costume like in that Buffy episode, it would mean she was a time traveler.  Felicity was willing to take that risk. 

Opening her purse, she handed the cabbie the cash for the ride.  Then she slid out of the car and stood in front of the house, looking up at it.  

A few women walked past her, giving her sidelong glances.  All of them were at least six inches taller than her, due to their combination of natural height and very high heels.  They were all wearing slinky, low-cut dresses, with the barest effort put into a costume: one had a headband with mouse ears, another had cat ears, and a third had rabbit ears.  

Although . . . maybe they were the Plastics from  _ Mean Girls _ ?  That would be acceptable.  

Giving her head a shake, Felicity squared her shoulders.  She started walking up to the wide-open front door with her head high.  Considering how many people seemed to be in the house, she doubted the host was doing much to check invitations.  Also, if she got thrown out for crashing?  It would make this story even better!

Felicity knew this was just her way of dealing with her nerves: coming up with scenarios and outcomes.  She knew it was unlikely for anything to go as she imagined.  But it did help settle her down.  

Although a drink or three would do even better.  

XXX

With a big smile for her new best friend, who made super-strong rum and Cokes, Felicity accepted her drink from the bartender.  As she sipped it, she wandered through the rooms of the mansion, watching the young, rich and beautiful celebrate Halloween.  

It was and wasn't like she had expected, this party.  She had thought the girls would be catty and the boys would be horny.  Certainly there was a few bitches and douchebags present.  On the whole, though, everyone just seemed to be hanging out with their friends.  Talking, laughing and flirting.  Drinking, dancing and smiling. 

Felicity wasn't quite sure what to think.  Should she be annoyed at how movies had played up these kinds of parties as one big orgy?  Or was it just her luck that the one night she had the courage to crash a rich people's party, it was a dud? 

At least she hadn't been asked to leave.  Everyone seemed to take one look at her and then move on to someone else.  It made her feel like an anthropologist--like she was Margaret Mead, examining the culture of the Samoans.  

Leaning against a wall and sipping her drink, she took in the two girls across the room that had attracted her attention.  One was as pretty as a model, with long chocolate-brown hair and elegant features.  Her body was showcased by a tight black dress and heels.  There was something about her, though, that made Felicity think she was stressed out.  Maybe it was the tension in her frame or the way she was downing clear drinks like they were water and not the vodka Felicity suspected. 

The other girl was shorter and less conventionally pretty, but she seemed like the kind to dare you to go streaking after finals.  There was a gleam in her eye that promised mischief.  And it wasn't like she wasn't pretty--she was.  After all, blonde hair, blue eyes, and a toned body would always equal pretty, not to mention hot. 

The blonde seemed to be trying to convince the brunette to do something or to go somewhere with her.  Felicity was too far away to hear their conversation, not over the thumping bass of the music.  The longer she watched them, the more she wanted to know what was happening. 

Her curiosity becoming too great to bear, Felicity began easing her way through the crowd, getting closer to the two women.  It took a few minutes--and she might have stepped on the foot of a guy with the cheekbones of an Abercrombie model--but eventually, Felicity was close enough to hear what they were talking about. 

“Laurel, c’mon, let’s have some fun.  Fuck Ollie for breaking up with you--I'll dance with you and we'll make him so jealous,” the blonde was saying. 

“No, I don’t wanna,” the brunette--Laurel, apparently--said.  She tossed back the rest of her drink, then sighed.  “I just--I don't get it.  He said he loves me.  We were practically living together.  I knew he was gonna propose any day now.  But then he said he ‘needed to get serious’.  Like I’m not serious!  I’m a lawyer, for God’s sake!  I’ve stood by him through everything--through all of his stupid playboy crap.  And I was so proud of how great he was doing--he's finally growing up, y’know?  But I don’t think he likes me very much.  I don’t even think he likes  _ himself _ .”

As Laurel talked, her voice went from petulant and stubborn to sad and confused.  It made Felicity feel for the brunette, and clearly inspired the same reaction in the blonde. 

“I know you thought that you and Ollie would be together forever, but maybe . . . maybe he isn't the right guy for you,” the blonde offered hesitantly. 

Laurel’s face screwed up in anger, making her pretty features look hard and mean.  “Of course you'd say that.  You've never gotten over him.  To think, my own sister has the hots for my boyfriend.”

They were sisters?  Yowch, Felicity thought.  This could get messy.  She should really step away.  But the blonde’s words froze her in place. 

“You know there's nothing between Ollie and me.  I got over that crush when I met Nyssa.  You're the only one who remembers it--because deep down, you know Ollie isn't who you want, but you're too scared to see if you could have something real with Tommy.”

The blonde didn't sound angry or upset with her sister--more resigned and unhappy.  Felicity’s heart went out to both of them and she wished she could say something. 

But it seemed her sister's opinion was the straw that broke the camel’s back for Laurel, because two perfect tears rolled down her cheeks, like something out of a movie.  

“Laurel--” the blonde said, but the brunette just shook her head and melted away into the crowd. 

The blonde woman watched her sister go, just like Felicity was.  And then their eyes met, and Felicity felt her face turn red at being caught eavesdropping. 

“I'm so sorry, I shouldn't have been listening but I just couldn't help myself--I just wanted to know what was going on and if everything was okay.  Is--is everything okay?  You probably want to go after your sister, instead of having the nosy eavesdropper babbling away at you,” Felicity rambled, unable to stop the river of words. 

“No--I mean, I want to, but that’s not what Laurel needs right now.  She’ll want to be alone to put herself back together.  Make everything look perfect,” the woman said, shaking her head.  “But thank you.  And don’t worry about it.  At these parties, everyone ends up finding out everything that happened.”  

Felicity nodded, trying to adopt a knowing expression.  Like of course she had been to tons of these parties and knew exactly how they worked.  

It must not have been very knowing, because the woman eyed her for a moment, then smiled.  “I haven’t seen you around before.  Are you a friend of Ollie’s or Tommy’s?”

“Oh, um, no--I’m new in town.  A friend of a friend mentioned tonight and said I should come . . .?” 

God, she really needed to work on her ability to lie.  Or to act like a normal person.  

The blonde looked at her for a long moment, then laughed.  “It was probably Tommy who invited you.  Dark hair, blue eyes, charming smile that his father spent a  _ lot  _ of money to get that way.”

Nodding quickly, Felicity took a big swallow of her rum and Coke.  “Yeah,” she said noncommittally.  

“Well, welcome to Starling City.  I’m Sara, and you kind of met my sister, Laurel,” the blonde said, holding out her hand.  

With a quick rub of her damp hand against her skirt, Felicity shook Sara’s hand.  “Hi, I’m Felicity.”  

“Felicity, huh?  I’ve never met a Felicity.  What’s your costume?” Sara asked with a smile.  

“Rose Tyler, from  _ Doctor Who _ ?” Felicity said, not meaning for her voice to go up at the end, but really not expecting someone who looked like Sara to be aware of the show.

Sara scrunched up her nose.  “Oh, yeah!  I thought you looked kinda familiar.  I wanted to like that show, but the one guy on it--the time traveler guy who flirts with everyone--”

“Captain Jack Harkness?” 

“Yeah, him,” Sara said with a nod.  “He looks just like Tommy’s dad, and Tommy’s dad is awful.  So it kinda ruined the show for me--and gave me a wiggins.”  

“Wiggins?  Are you a Buffy fan?” Felicity asked, unable to help herself.  Feeling a slight chance that through dumb blind luck, she might have stumbled upon a great potential friend.  

Laughing, Sara nodded.  “I am.  I love that show.  That’s why I’m dressed like this.”  She gestured to her knee-length skirt, modest heels, and twin set. 

Felicity felt like she had hit the jackpot.  “Because Halloween is Come As You Aren’t night?”  

“Exactly!” Sara said with a wide grin.  “Look, this party is mostly lame--now that Ollie’s getting all grown-up, they aren’t the ragers they used to be.  But Tommy always insists on a good DJ, as you can hear.  So you wanna dance?”  

Normally at parties, Felicity was more likely to find a corner where she could talk to people.  But tonight, the idea of dancing sounded like a lot of fun.  So she nodded and then let out a yelp as Sara grabbed her hand and dragged her onto the dance floor.  

XXX

After a half-hour, Felicity peeled off her denim jacket and tossed it to the side, leaving her in the black tank top she had worn underneath.  Fifteen minutes after that, she took off the fingerless gloves and put them with her jacket.  Sara, however, insisted that she keep the scarf.  And since she had drunk another rum and Coke, Felicity was willing to go along with her.  

Dancing with Sara was a lot of fun, too.  She wasn’t about the fake-sexy dancing that some girls did, trying to entice guys.  In fact, Sara was silly and goofy and a lot of fun, and Felicity was already hoping this wouldn’t be the only time they got to hang out together.  

Sara leaned in to yell in Felicity’s ear.  “I’m gonna get a drink--you want one?”  

Not bothering to say anything, Felicity just nodded and then kept dancing.  This was so much  _ fun _ !  Why hadn’t she ever really done this before?

Moving to the music, Felicity closed her eyes.  She lifted her arms over her head, letting her hips sway.  She smiled, just savoring this feeling.

And then a hand--large, warm, and definitely  _ not  _ Sara’s--landed on one of her hips.   

Her eyes flying open, Felicity gasped at the man in front of her.  Because she had never seen a man so gorgeous in real life.  Even with his floppy hair.  

This guy was tall but not too tall.  He looked like he worked out from his broad shoulders and muscled arms. And . . . wow, his face was  _ so  _ pretty.  

Perfect jawline, covered in a dusting of stubble.  Perfect mouth, just the right combination of firm yet soft, or so his lips appeared.  There was a sexy mole under his lower lip that she suddenly wanted to lick.  His nose was a touch too big, but it didn’t really matter--not with those eyes of his.  So blue . . . and locked right on her.

Felicity felt herself lean in towards him, then jerked back.  Okay, so maybe she had imbibed a little too much, if she was considering kissing a completely random stranger who had laid his hands on her without even a by-your-leave!

Oooh, yes, she was definitely more than tipsy and close to drunk.  Why else would she sound like some maiden aunt from the 1880s?  At least she hadn’t said any of that out loud.

The too-gorgeous-for-his-own-good guy’s eyebrows drew together, then he leaned in towards her, tilting his head so his lips were close to her ear.  

“What’s a by-your-leave?” 

Mortified.  That’s what she was.  Felicity closed her eyes, wishing that this could all be a dream.  Although it would make more sense if it was, because super-hot guys did not come up to her and rest a hand on her hip that . . . was . . . still there?

Opening one eye, she looked to see if he was still there.  He was, with a grin on his face.  Not a big mocking smirk--no, this was small, amused, and even held a bit of kindness?  

He leaned back in and said, “If it helps, the music is so loud, I only heard ‘without even a by-your-leave’.”

“Really?” she asked him, turning her head a little to speak into his perfectly-shaped ear.  

“Really,” he said, before leaning back to smile at her.  “Hi, I’m Oliver.”  

“Hi,” Felicity parroted, hoping she didn’t sound breathless.  Oliver.  That was a nice name.  

Drunk.  She was definitely drunk.  ‘That was a nice name’?  

Oliver smiled wider.  “And what’s your name?”

“Oh!  I’m--I’m Felicity,” she replied quickly, stumbling a little over her name. 

“Felicity,” he repeated while still smiling.  “Would you like to dance?”  

She was an actual genius, with the Mensa membership to prove it.  Even within a group of very smart people, Felicity was used to being one of the smartest.  To having her brain work the fastest.  Something about Oliver’s smile, about the way he minimized her embarrassment, made her feel like her brain was melting.  

So all she did was nod, and smile back at Oliver, and watch as his smile got even bigger.  

The hand that was on her hip stayed there and pulled her closer to him.  For a moment she felt awkward and unsure, wondering what should she do with her hands.  And then, like magic, she settled one on his shoulder and let the other one hang by her side, brushing against Oliver’s as they started to move.  

Thankfully, Oliver wasn’t the best dancer.  They kept bumping into each other . . . or maybe that was on purpose?  Maybe he was trying to get closer?  Felicity didn’t know.  From feeling like it was stuck in molasses, now her brain was moving at light speed, trying to anticipate every possible situation and devise an outcome.  Should she wrap both arms around his neck?  Should she close her eyes and play it cool?  

His shirt was so smooth under her fingertips--the material felt really nice.  Although not as nice as his shoulder did.  Taking a deep breath, Felicity looked up at Oliver, who was looking right at her.  When their eyes met, he gave her a small smile.  His free hand lifted up and lightly brushed over the scarf still looped around her neck.  

“I like the scarf,” he said, not having to yell in her ear thanks to the DJ lowering the volume and bass of the music.  

“Thank you,” she said, gazing at him.  “It--it’s part of my costume.”  

“Yeah?” he asked, his face leaning in towards hers.  

Nodding, Felicity found she just couldn’t look away from him.  “Yeah.  Rose Tyler, from  _ Doctor Who _ .  Do--do you know that show?”  

He shook his head, his eyes roaming up and down her body.  “No . . . but I think you look great.”  

“So do you,” she replied without thinking.  “Although . . . I don’t really know what your costume is, either,” she said quickly, letting her eyes flick over him.  In jeans and a blue button-down, Oliver could be anything or anyone.  

A flicker went through his eyes and his smile faded slightly.  Felicity felt her heart drop and couldn’t help taking a small step backwards, only for Oliver’s hand to tighten on her hip.  Keeping her right where she was.  

“I guess . . . it’s dutiful son.  Or deceitful friend,” Oliver said after a moment.  He tried to sound self-deprecating, like it wasn’t a big deal.  But Felicity couldn’t help wondering if he really, truly meant that.  

Wondering if this was the ‘Ollie’ that Sara and Laurel had been talking about.  If she should even letting herself get this wrapped up in Olivern.  

Although, really . . . if crashing a party and dancing with a super-hot guy wasn’t her normal MO, then it probably wasn’t Oliver’s usual behavior to dance with some nerd, either.  Maybe he was getting into the spirit of Come As You Aren’t Night.  After this party, they would probably part ways and never see each other again.  While that would be a real shame, because Oliver was just so pretty--even with that floppy hair falling over his face and hiding his light under a bushel--it meant that they should probably keep this light and flirty. 

Then she looked at him--really looked at him--and something in him made her want to ignore every bit of logic and sense and just . . . connect.  With him. 

“Deceitful friend?” she asked softly, her fingers giving his shoulder one light stroke.  

Oliver nodded, his eyes never leaving her face.  As if he was searching for something.  “Yeah.  Because my best friend is in love with my ex, and I think she’s in love with him, too, but they’re both too scared to try.  If I was a good friend, I’d give them a push.”  

“Tommy and Laurel?” she guessed, even though she was more than pretty sure she was right.  When he nodded in confirmation, Felicity realized how accurate Sara had been about her Laurel’s feelings, if both her sister and her ex could see what the problem was.  In the back of her mind, Felicity mulled over Laurel’s words and pondered whether she was right when it came to Oliver.  If he didn’t really like himself.  

Felicity thought that Laurel seemed to be right.  Because Oliver’s answer, his whole attitude, seemed like someone who felt trapped in a life he didn’t want.  It made her want to help him, since she knew something about feeling trapped like that.  And Oliver didn’t seem like the type to dye his hair or move cross-country to escape the life he didn’t want anymore.  

“Perhaps you haven’t done anything because you’re scared, too,” Felicity suggested, finding her hand had started stroking his shoulder in earnest.  Not in a feeling-him-up way, but as comfort and support.  “If it doesn’t work out, they’ll be mad at you--and if it works out, they might have less time for you.  And it sucks to lose a friend, let alone two of them, even if it’s for a happy reason.”  

He blinked, his eyes going wide and looking very, very blue.  “Wow.  That--that seems . . . you could be right.”  

It wasn’t the first time Felicity had been told that.  Yet there was something about the way Oliver said those four little words that made her heart beat a little harder.  She smiled at him, until his admiring scrutiny made her duck her head, taking a moment to regain her equilibrium.  

“So maybe you aren’t being deceitful,” Felicity said, glancing up at him.  “You’re just being human.”  

Nodding slowly, Oliver pulled her an inch closer to him.  “Human, yeah?”

Her mouth was as dry as the Sahara, so Felicity just nodded to buy some time.  “Uh--uh-huh.  And eventually, you’ll figure out what you want to do about the situation.  Whether you want to talk to Tommy, or encourage Laurel to move on, or whatever.”  

“Hmm,” he said, pursing his lips--and really, lip pursing should never be sexy, yet Oliver pulled it off.  Or maybe she was just very appreciative of any opportunity to look at his mouth.  

Suddenly, he stopped pursing and smiled.  A cocky, charming grin that made Felicity feel a bit weak in the knees--but also a little turned off, if that was possible, because it was a grin that looked too practiced, too artificial. He leaned in towards her, although he didn’t really need to, and whispered right in her ear.  

“Have you ever played Seven Minutes in Heaven?”

XXX

This bedroom was the same square footage as her entire townhouse, Felicity was fairly sure.  Not only was it large, it was ornate and luxurious, from the king-sized bed covered in a rich duvet to the windows draped in heavy fabric.  Besides the bed and nightstands, there were two seating areas, a loveseat and two wing chairs in each one.  

Felicity perched on the edge of the loveseat near the closet, wondering what she was doing here.  Honestly, Oliver should be studied to determine if he gave off pheromones or mind control chemicals.  Why else had she gone along with this crazy plan?  Seven Minutes in Heaven--really?  She hadn’t played that since her first boy-girl party!

“Felicity!” Sara called out in a sing-song tone, bursting into the room carrying a bottle in each hand.  “So you met Ollie.”  

She plopped down beside Felicity and passed her the bottle with the amber liquid.  “I remembered you were drinking rum and Cokes, so here.”  Sara uncapped her clear bottle--tequila, Felicity could see from the label--and took a swig before coughing.  

Straight rum sounded like a bad, bad, bad idea.  That was very clear in Felicity’s mind.  So she had no one to blame but herself for opening the bottle and taking a small sip.  She coughed, too, then looked at Sara, who was beaming at her.  

“I saw you and Ollie dancing.  You two looked really cute together.  We really have to get Tommy and Laurel to start something tonight, so you and Ollie--”

“There is no ‘me and Ollie’,” Felicity interrupted.  “And I don’t think he likes being called Ollie.  He told me his name is Oliver.”  

Sara tilted her head to one side.  “Huh.  I thought it was just an affectation, y’know?”  She took another swig of tequila.  “The whole ‘call me Oliver’ thing, but maybe you’re right.”  

Before Sara could say anything more, the bedroom door opened, letting in the music from the still-going party.  Two men and a woman stepped inside, all three of them stunning and well-dressed, with an air of confidence that made Felicity think money.  

“Hey, guys!” Sara said, waving to them.  She hopped up and kissed the dark-haired man’s cheek, then hugged the woman.  “Come meet my new friend Felicity.”  

The dark-haired man gave Sara a look, then turned to Felicity with a smile.  A very charming, completely perfect smile.  “Hi, Felicity.  I’m Tommy.”  

“Oh!” Felicity said, getting to her feet and trying not to fall over as her head swum.  “Hi, it’s nice to meet you.”  

The woman introduced herself as McKenna, and the other man told her his name was Carter.  While McKenna and Tommy both seemed nice and friendly, Carter took one look at her and then flopped down in a chair to drink from his tumbler of whisky.  

Ignoring Carter like he was ignoring her, Felicity instead focused on Tommy.  Watching him, she couldn’t help agreeing with Sara and Oliver.  Admittedly, she barely knew Tommy or Laurel, but she thought Tommy’s lightness, his charm and friendliness, would make him a good match for Laurel.  He would make her smile.  

The door slammed open and Oliver stepped into the room, pulling Laurel along with him.  “Great, everyone’s here.  C’mon, Laurel.”  

Laurel looked less tense than before--softer, more vulnerable.  She gave a small smile to everyone, then came to the loveseat and sat besides Sara.  “Hi,” she said quietly, leaning against Sara and resting her head on Sara’s shoulder.

“Hey,” Sara said, wrapping an arm around her sister.  “Okay?’  

Nodding, Laurel glanced over at Felicity and gave her a small smile.  “Hi.  I’m Laurel.”  

“Felicity.  Nice to meet you,” she replied, trying to keep her nerves at bay.  Because the plan that Oliver had cooked up, while straightforward enough, still had potential for backfiring.  If he wasn’t able to get Tommy and Laurel together in the closet--what then?

Then she met Oliver’s eyes, who gave her a wink, and Felicity felt her face flush.  

“The game is Seven Minutes in Heaven, ladies and gentlemen,” Oliver said, his charm levels turned up to eleven.  He took an empty bottle and set it down on the coffee table in the seating area.  “We all know how to play, so why wait to get started?”

“Point of order: we have an uneven number of males and females,” Carter pointed out.  

“That’s not a problem for me,” Sara said with a grin.  

McKenna shrugged her shoulders.  “Me, either.”  

“Or me,” Tommy said.  “But if you land on someone same-sex, I say you get another spin.”

“Does that work?” Oliver asked Carter, who made a meh gesture and waved his hand in the air.  With that agreement, Oliver turned to Tommy.  “As co-host, I think you should go first.”  

“Fine by me,” Tommy said with a grin.  He reached down, giving the bottle a spin.  

Felicity watched, trying to figure out how Oliver was going to get Tommy and Laurel to end up together.  He was leaning back in a chair, sipping from his glass.  When his eyes met hers, and he grinned at her, Felicity thought that this must be the Ollie all his friends had been talking about tonight.

Honestly, she was pretty sure she preferred Oliver.  Even if it was “Ollie” who could get his best friend and ex together.    

The bottle began to slow, ending up on . . . McKenna?  

Since Laurel was next to her, Felicity could feel how the brunette stiffened.  Maybe the idea that Tommy might move on bothered Laurel?  Maybe Tommy had been waiting for Laurel, which meant Laurel felt no urgency to actually move on.  

Tommy smiled at McKenna and held his hand out to her.  “Shall we?”  

The raven-haired beauty nodded and took Tommy’s hand with a smile.  “The last time I kissed you, it was in a game of spin the bottle when we were twelve, do you remember?”  She paused to eye him.  “Let’s see if your technique has gotten better.”  

Laurel let out a huff, making Tommy look at her for a long moment.  Then McKenna pulled him into the closet, the door closing with a click.  

“This is a dumb game,” Laurel said, grabbing Sara’s bottle and taking a large swallow.  

Wow, Laurel could really hold her liquor.  

“I got my first kiss like this,” Sara shared.  She nudged Laurel, then took the bottle away from her.  “If Tommy’s spin had ended up on you, would you still think it was dumb?”

Laurel glared at her sister.  “That doesn’t matter.  It’s still dumb.”  

Oliver glanced up from his cell phone, where he was keeping track of the time, and met Felicity’s eyes.  He gave her a small smile, and she smiled back, unable to help herself.  Because it seemed like Tommy with another woman was definitely provoking Laurel.

“Time’s up!” Oliver called out, rising to his feet.  But there was no need for him to knock on the closet door; Tommy and McKenna stepped out calmly, smiling at each other.  

The loveseat cushions shifted as Laurel leaned forward.  Turning to the side, Felicity could see how Laurel was examining Tommy and McKenna--looking signs of a makeout?  Hiding her grin by taking a sip of rum, Felicity wondered what would happen next.  

McKenna took a spin, ending up on Carter.  She didn’t look very thrilled, but she stepped into the closet with Carter.  Meanwhile, Laurel was staring daggers at Tommy, who was talking with Oliver.  Laurel was so focused on Tommy, she didn’t even notice Sara getting up and walking around the loveseat to crouch by Felicity.

“I’ve never seen Laurel like this,” Sara whispered.  “Not over Ollie.  Now I wish I had come up with this idea before!”

“But do you think anything’s really going to happen?” Felicity asked, glancing at Laurel, and then automatically finding her eyes going to Oliver’s.  

“Oh, something’s gonna happen.”  

Felicity turned to eye Sara, but she didn’t get a chance to follow up, because Carter and McKenna came out of the closet.  As Carter leaned forward to spin, Laurel announced loudly, “My turn.”  

Carter opened his mouth, but Oliver elbowed him.  Not that Laurel noticed: not with how she oh-so-carefully reached out to the bottle, then turned it so it was pointing at Tommy.  

“That’s not how--” Carter began, only to cough when Oliver elbowed him harder.  Felicity put her hands over her mouth to hold back a giggle as Laurel stood up, grabbed Tommy’s hand, and dragged him out of the room.  

“Hasn’t she ever played this game before?” Carter asked prissily, making everyone else in the room start laughing.  

Sara stood up and took Carter’s arm.  “C’mon, Carter, I’ll explain it to you.  McKenna, you want to help?”  

“Sure,” McKenna said with a grin.  She followed Sara and Carter out of the room . . . leaving Felicity and Oliver alone. 

Shifting a little on the loveseat, Felicity wondered what would happen now.  Her hand fluttered towards the bottle of rum, but she pulled it back.  The last thing that should happen was more drinking.  Then this would go from probably-unevenly-matched rom-com to Afterschool Special about the dangers of drinking too much at a party.

“So . . . you got past being scared,” Felicity said.  Her voice sounded too loud in the large room and she felt her cheeks flush.  

Oliver nodded slowly, his eyes locked on hers.  “I did.”  

She smiled nervously.  “So you don’t have to feel like a bad friend anymore.”  

His answering smile was slow and soft, making her feel warm all over.  “I don’t.  Although I might still be considered a little bit of a bad friend.”  

“Oh?’ she asked, watching as he stood up and walked over to her.  Watching as he gracefully eased down next to her, making the loveseat suddenly feel much smaller.  

“Yeah . . . because it wasn’t just about getting Tommy and Laurel together,” he said, stretching his arm out along the back of the loveseat.  His fingertips just brushed against her back, just below her neck, making her whole body tingle.  “It was about sending you a message.”  

Even as the butterflies swarmed in her stomach and she felt like she was starring in one of the movies she had secretly loved as a teenager--the ones where the nerd got the sensitive jock--it didn’t feel right.  It felt like Oliver was playing a part, and so was she.  

While the bubbly nerdy blonde had started out a mask, it had become who she was.  Felicity had accepted it--embraced it.  She felt uniquely qualified in saying that the man who was sitting beside her wasn’t the playboy he was pretending to be--not anymore.  He was becoming someone else.  He wasn’t Ollie, which was a good thing because she didn’t really like Ollie.

She liked Oliver.  

But it was Ollie who was leaning in to kiss her.  

“Wait,” Felicity said quickly, holding a hand up, her fingers brushing against his lips before he pulled back in surprise.  

“Wait?” Oliver asked, looking at her blankly.  

Nodding, Felicity turned to face him.  “Yes, because--because you don’t have to be like this with me.”  

“Like what?”  No one should look so attractive when they were that confused.  

“All--all Ollie,” she said, seeing how he tensed and rushing to explain.  “Look, I don’t know you, I know that.  But I overheard Laurel and Sara talking, and then Sara told me a little, and the guy they were talking about, this Ollie?  He sounded like he would be fun to hang out with during a party.  But then you came up to me and told me your name was Oliver, and . . . you were real.”  

He leaned back, withdrawing from her, and Felicity felt her hopes dying.  

“I know that Halloween is about being someone you’re not,” she said, looking down.  “But I liked the guy I met on the dance floor better.”  

The silence that fell between them was the heavy, awkward kind.  The type that made you wish a hole would open up underneath you.  Felicity swallowed, looking down at her feet.  She should just . . . go.  Find her jacket and get out of here.  

She didn’t belong here.  

Felicity pushed herself up from the sofa and headed towards the door, the heels of her boots sinking into the thick carpet.  Her hand was on the doorknob when Oliver’s voice stopped her.  

“I saw you dancing earlier.  And you were just so . . . different.  So bright, so alive.  I felt drawn to you, even though Tommy joked that nerdy blondes weren’t normally my type.” 

Slowly, she turned around and met his eyes.  Oliver gave her a small smile.  “Then we started talking and I wanted to spend even more time with you.  I was all set to ask you to ditch this party with me, and then . . . I got scared.  I fell back on being the guy I used to be.  On being Ollie, with the booze and playing games and feeding a line to a girl.  So here we are.”  

For a long moment, Felicity looked at him.  Took in this guy who was more than he seemed, struggling to figure out who he was.  Not unlike her.  He wasn’t who he was supposed to be, and neither was she.

Maybe they could find themselves in each other.  

“It’s not too late.  We could . . . we could go get something to eat,” Felicity said, hearing the hope in her voice mixing with the hesitation.  

Oliver did a double-take, staring at her.  “You--you want to?”  

Nodding, Felicity took a deep breath.  “Yeah.  You could take me to your favorite place.  Some place you would go to with someone who’s known you forever.”  

She nearly gasped when Oliver practically jumped to his feet and walked over to her.  He reached out and grabbed her hand.  “Have you ever been to Big Belly Burger?”  

“No,” she said, shaking her head and feeling her by-now-really-messy braids brush against her shoulders.

“You’ll love it,” Oliver promised.

He was right.  She did love it.  The comfy booths and the warm lighting made her feel warm and welcomed.  The burgers and fries were amazing, and the shakes were the perfect consistency for dipping your fries.  Best of all, she could tell that it was Oliver sitting across from her in the booth, not Ollie.  Felicity doubted that Ollie would have wanted to spend all night in a fast food restaurant, talking to a girl he had just met.  Starting something that was real, something that was about Oliver and Felicity, instead of the masks they wore.    

Big Belly became their place.  The place where Felicity asked Oliver to move in with her.  The place where Oliver proposed.  They went through the drive-through on the way to their honeymoon.  

It was the place where they could always be themselves.  Even on Halloween.

End.

 


End file.
